A Storm of Strawberries

by Cotterill

  “Darby …” says Mom.

  “You’re not listening to me!” I shout. “This is important! You always say everyone’s different and that that’s good because we wouldn’t want everyone to be the same. I’m different and you say people should love me. Well, Kaydee’s different too. And you should love her. All of her. And that means loving Lissa too, because she loves Lissa, so we should love Lissa.” I stop for a moment, because I’ve talked very fast and I’m not sure all my words have come out in the right order. “Anyway,” I say, folding my arms and glaring at them, “that’s what I think.”

  Mom and Dad don’t say anything, so there’s quite a long moment with no one talking. My feet feel cold and damp and I scrunch up my toes inside my slippers and feel a squelching. It’s quite nice, so I do it a few more times.

  Then Mom lets out a big sigh, and says, “Okay. You’re right, Darby. You’re right.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  And Dad laughs and says, “What would we do without you, eh?”

  And I say, as usual, “You’d be in a terrible mess.”

  And then Mom steps forward and puts her arms around me, and Dad does the same, and I’m in a Darby sandwich, and I squelch my toes a bit more to make it all perfect.

  Lissa is coming down the stairs with her suitcase when we come in. Her eyes go big when she sees all three of us.

  “Lissa,” says Mom, “Paul and I need to have a word with Kaydee. Will you wait here with Darby for a minute?”

  “My mom’ll be here soon,” Lissa says.

  I look at Mom, panicked. She can’t go home!

  “That’s okay,” says Mom. “We don’t want you to go just yet, though.” She smiles at Lissa. “I’m sorry the weekend hasn’t turned out quite as planned. We’re hoping to do something about it.”

  Mom and Dad go into the kitchen and through to the living room, and I hear the door shut.

  Lissa looks at me. “What does she mean? What’s going on?”

  “I am very brave,” I tell her. “I am strong.” I lift up my arm. “Feel my muscles.”

  Lissa frowns. “What are you talking about?”

  “I am Super-Darby!” I tell her. “I fix things!”

  “Fix what?” asks Lissa.

  “Fix you and Kaydee,” I say. “So you can be happy again. It’s all going to be okay.”

  She starts shaking her head, and then I realize she’s laughing. “Oh, Darby,” she says. “Oh, Darby, oh, Darby …”

  I’m not sure why she’s laughing and I feel a bit worried.

  But then she looks at me and she says, “I wish I had a sister like you.”

  Chapter 35

  When Mom and Dad come out of the living room, Mom’s eyes are wet. Lissa and I are sitting on the bottom step and she’s showing me a dance video from a TV show that I absolutely have to start watching.

  Mom says, “Lissa, we’ve been talking to Kaydee. Why don’t you go in and see her?”

  Lissa glances at me, and suddenly it’s like there’s something running through her, making her body kind of hum. It’s hard to explain. It’s like she’s gone out of focus. I take off my glasses to clean them, and when I put them back on, she’s gone and the living room door is closed again.

  Dad gives Mom a hug and then he hugs me and I’m thinking this may be the most hugs I’ve ever had in one day. The doorbell rings, and Mom says, “That must be Lissa’s mom.” No one from around here ever rings the front doorbell; they just come in the back.

  Lissa’s mom is small and dark and pointy all over. Her eyes are like Lissa’s only more anxious. “Hi there,” she says. “Have I got the right place?”

  “If you’ve come to pick up Lissa, yes,” says Dad. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Paul.”

  “Beverley,” she says, shaking his hand.

  “Got to get back to work,” Dad says, “but you’ve got an excellent daughter there, by the way. Great girl.”

  Beverley looks surprised but pleased. “Oh—thank you.”

  “Come on in,” Mom says. “It’s been an eventful weekend! Cup of tea?”

  I sit with them in the kitchen, fidgeting. I am dying to know what’s going on in the sitting room, but the door is still shut. Mom and Beverley make what people call “small talk,” which is very boring, and so I stop listening. Instead I just stare at the living room door.

  I am staring so hard that when it actually opens I jump about a mile off my chair in shock. Lissa sticks her head out. She looks completely different. She’s all lit up and glowing. I know just by looking at her that everything is okay, and I start smiling right away.

  “Mom!” says Lissa. “I didn’t hear you.”

  She comes into the kitchen. “Darby, would you like to go in to see Kaydee?”

  “YES,” I say probably far too loudly, and without even glancing behind me I run to the door, go through it, and shut it behind me. I want to have my moment with my sister.

  She’s sitting up on the sofa with her bandaged ankle. And she’s smiling at me.

  “You are so beautiful,” I say in wonder. Because she is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so beautiful.

  She opens her arms and I crouch down next to the sofa and give her the biggest hug ever. “Thank you,” Kaydee whispers into my ear. “Thank you.”

  I thought we’d say more than that, but it turns out that “thank you” is enough.

  Chapter 36

  Sometimes things happen that are BIG. It kind of feels like we had two storms at the same time that weekend: one on the farm, one in our family. The broken greenhouse will cost a lot of money. Mom and Dad are still worried and spend every evening looking at the bank statements and bills. But the fruit pickers have arrived for the summer, so I think maybe it’ll be okay, for now anyway.

  Kaydee is great. Her ankle is still sore but she doesn’t care because she’s so happy. She and Lissa text all the time, and I don’t mind because I’m happy too. I know that Kaydee loving Lissa won’t take her away from me. And that I was wrong about Lissa; she wishes she had a sister like me, so she can’t be too bad.

  Olly has started going out with a girl from school, and although it’s hard to tell exactly, I think maybe he’s happy.

  Cherry, Butter, and Pike are happy because Mom left the fridge door open by mistake last night and they helped themselves to the leftover chicken and the strawberry pudding.

  I am not happy about the loss of the strawberry pudding. But overall I am fine. I even found Georgie, trapped between my bed frame and my wall, where she must have fallen while I was asleep. So I didn’t need to go looking for Kaydee that night after all. But it was a good thing I did.

  Storms can be scary. The outside ones and the inside ones. But every day now there is a big bowl of fresh strawberries on the kitchen table. And Mom promised to do another chocolate hunt just as soon as Kaydee’s ankle is better.

  I’ve put the baskets under my bed, ready.

  Acknowledgments

  This book required a lot of research into the particularities of Down syndrome, and I am very grateful to the following people who gave up their time to talk to me or to read an early draft: Colette Lloyd, Rachel Johnson and her daughter Emma, Alex Rigler, and Ayesha Mahmud. Thanks also to Sally Phillips for her excellent and thought-provoking BBC documentary A World Without Down’s Syndrome? Sally, along with Kate Jones and Marian Simon from the Down Syndrome Association, suggested very useful places to start my research.

  It’s tricky to know what goes on inside someone else’s head, and if that person has Down syndrome, it’s even trickier. I’ve had to take artistic liberties with Darby’s inner voice, and so any inconsistencies or inaccuracies in the portrayal of Down syndrome are entirely my own.

  Thanks to Kathryn Evans, who not only writes wonderful children’s books but also happens to run a fruit farm on the south coast of England. I had an extremely useful visit there, learning about polytunnels and ventilation systems, and again, any errors in the farming jargon are
purely my own. Kathryn’s cat Pike is immortalized in the book as a thank-you.

  Thanks to Milly Weaver for bidding in the Authors for Refugees auction. Milly won the auction and thus the chance to name one of the characters after her very own Olly! I granted her a minor role as Darby’s aunt too. Beverley Humphrey, who narrowly lost the auction, turns up in the book as Lissa’s mom.

  At Piccadilly Press, thanks are due to a large team of hardworking people, but particularly Felicity Johnston, Talya Baker, Tina Mories, and Ruth Logan.

  Finally, thanks to my family and friends, who put up with my strange out-of-the-blue questions and are my solid support network in this crazy but wonderful job.